John Winchester is engrossed in his research spread across the kitchen table when a loud knock rattles the kitchen door. He pauses for a moment to listen for one of his boys to respond to the intrusion. Uncharacteristically, the house is silent. He grumpily pulls himself from his work to answer the door. A large man dressed in khaki colored pants and a powder blue-colored button down oxford cloth shirt stands on the porch with his arm draped protectively over a young boy's shoulders. The boy's face is partially hidden under a ball cap. The child looks to be between his own sons' ages of seven and eleven.

"Can I help you?" John answers the door gruffly.

"I’m Stephen Callahan. Are you Mr. Winchester?"

"Yes, John Winchester."

"Well Mr. Winchester, your son did this to my Joey today on the playground." Mr. Callahan slides his hand under the child's chin, raising it to expose the markings of a fresh but angry looking black eye.

Just then, Dean jumps from the top step of the stairs and lands with a gentle thud on his two feet in the middle of the kitchen floor. Arms stretch out in front of him for balance. Both men turn towards the unexpected noise. Dean flashes a cocky grin, pleased with himself.

"9.8, best landing yet," Dean quips to no one in particular.

John snaps his fingers in Dean's direction and points to the floor next to him. Dean immediately straightens up and complies with his father's non-verbal command.

"What do you know about this?" John directs at Dean as he nods his head towards the bruised child.

"Looks to be a class ‘A’ shiner. Should be sporting some nice colors by morning."

"Son, that’s one, and I'm not going to ask again."

"Crap, Dad. I don't know this kid," Dean responds exasperated.

"Mr. Winchester, it would appear it is my child's word against yours. Joey, go wait outside. I want to speak with Mr. Winchester," Mr. Callahan turns the child towards the yard and gives a slight shove.

"Mr. Winchester, I don't want to make trouble. I thought you should know about your child's actions. I would hope you agree that fighting is a serious offense and some form of punishment is in order. Will you be punishing your son?"

John crooked an eye brow at Mr. Callahan's statement. "That is a family matter, Mr. Callahan," John replies dryly.

"I view this as an important lesson for the children. Joey will not be allowed dessert for two weeks."

"Ew ew ew ew. Serious punishment," Dean mockingly shakes his hands in front of himself and wobbles bent knees in and out as he feigns being scared.

John firmly grasps Dean around the back of his neck with a strong grip, giving him a meaningful squeeze. "That's two, Dean."

"Dean? Your son's name is Dean? I apologize for the mistake Mr. Winchester. Joey said the boy who did this is named Sam."

Dean's attention is drawn to the outside yard, attuned to his brother's troubled tone. He blocks out the discussion Mr. Callahan thinks he’s having with the stoic John Winchester. Dean watches as Joey gives Sammy a hard shove, knocking him to the ground. Sammy awkwardly, but successfully, sweeps both legs out from under his attacker. They roll around on the ground trying for the advantage position.

Dean moves quickly past the two older men out through the doorway. He jumps off the porch to reach the entangled youngsters sprawled on the lawn. Fists pound on each other. Dean tries to untangle the two but he is taken down in the scuffle by an unexpected kick to his groin. Limbs fly. Clothes rip. Joey's cap falls off allowing long brown hair to escape.

The fathers arrive as Dean is rolling away from the foray trying to catch the breath that was knocked out of him. The fathers grab their respective children to pull them apart. The two youngsters continue to grab and reach for their opponent.

John wraps his arms tightly around his flailing son. He lifts the outraged Sam high enough so his feet are off the ground. Avoiding a head butt, John leans in close. In a soft but meaningful voice John speaks so only Sam can hear, "Samuel, control your temper right now or you will be a very sorry little boy!"

Sammy immediately freezes in motion. His eyes open wide in acknowledgement of his father’s meaning. Sammy’s limbs go limp. John lowers him to the ground followed by only two words, “Stay put.”

Mr. Callahan struggles to subdue his thrashing youngster. He gives John a pleading look for support. All three Winchesters watch as Mr. Callahan is unsuccessful in his attempt to control the situation. Joey adds screaming and crying to the punching and kicking.

“Boys, house, now!”

Mr. Callahan watches bewildered as John Winchester speaks only three words and without an argument the two boys turn and bolt towards the house.

“She usually tires herself out by now,” Mr. Callahan states apologetically.

John nods. “We’re done here,” he states matter-of-factly.

“We need to discuss the fighting,” Mr. Callahan asserts.

“No. We don’t,” John emphasizes each word.

“What about the punishment?” Mr. Callahan inquires.

“As I said, that’s a family matter.”

“What if it happens again?” Mr. Callahan verbalizes his concern.

“It won’t.”

“How can you be so sure?” Mr. Callahan pushes his point.

“I have one word for you Mr. Callahan, consequences.”

Mr. Callahan blinks twice at John with a dumbfounded look on his face.

Both fathers pause for a second, motionless in thought.

John turns to walk up the sidewalk towards the house as Mr. Callahan tosses the struggling Joey over his shoulder. The sound of three firm swats on a surprised little bottom is heard followed by a loud silence. The first silence since the scuffle erupted.

John grins ominously to himself. I guess Sammy won’t be the only one today to suffer the consequences of a sore bottom.

*****

John stands in the door frame of the living room where the boys are huddled together quietly waiting on the couch. Tears fill Sammy’s scared eyes and a lone tear rolls down a flushed cheek.

“Is anyone hurt?” John asks with concern.

“No.” Dean responds as Sammy shakes his head in the negative.

“Then why are you crying, Samuel?”

“I don’t want a spank’in,” Sam blurts out as he buries his face in his brother’s side for comfort.

“Dad, I saw the whole thing. The other kid started it. She pushed Sammy down. He was just defending himself. You know, like you taught us.” Dean ends with a wide toothy grin.

John had to suppress a smile, understanding his eldest’s attempt to save his little brother from a butt warming.

“Dean, thank you for your input but I think I want to hear Sammy’s version of what happened today.”

“What Dean said,” Sammy offers a muffled response.

John walks to the side of the coffee table closest to the couch. He sits down in front of his two boys. John gently grabs Sammy around the waist and pulls him away from the security of his big brother. He positions Sam so he is sitting directly in front of him with his legs hanging over the couch cushion.

“Sammy, I want you to tell me what happened at the playground this morning that caused you to give that child a black eye?”

Sammy looks over his shoulder at Dean for help.

Dean shrugs.

Sammy turns his face back towards his father and responds by slowly shaking his head, no. Tears refill his eyes.

John is not accustomed to being told no. He takes three deep calming breaths.

“Samuel Winchester, unless you explain to me what happened at the playground, you give me no choice but to punish you.”

“You won’t spank me if I tell?” Sam asks hopefully.

“I didn’t say that, son. We will discuss your actions and what consequences are appropriate.”

Sammy looks over his shoulder again at Dean.

“You better tell him, Sammy,” Dean counsels his baby brother.

Sammy takes a deep breath and expels a loud sigh. He turns back to face his father and begins, “Jake Miller had a boom box at the playground. He stole some tapes from his older brother so we were all sitting around on a bench listening to music. I think it was like AC/DC and Black Sabbath. Real cool stuff.”

“Go on,” John encourages.

“That giiiirrrrl, Joooeeeey, came over and wanted to sit with us. We told her it was boys only. She wouldn’t go away. She started pushing me and poking me in the back. I told her to cut it out. Dad, she didn’t stop! She kicked me in the butt then took my cap and ran off with it. The other guys started laughing and making fun that I let a girl take my hat. I ran after her and tackled her down. We were rolling around on the ground. I guess that’s when I sorta punched her a couple of times. I didn’t mean to give her a black eye, but she made me mad.” Sammy drops his gaze to watch his swinging feet and wait for his father’s response.

“Sammy, we’ve talked before about you controlling your temper,” John admonishes.

“She took my cap, Dad,” Sam says defiantly.

John holds up his hand to silence his son. “We’ve talked about fighting and when it is wrong. I trained you to fight to protect yourself. Not to start fights. You lost your temper and used fighting as a solution. You could have seriously hurt that girl. Never mind the attention you brought to the family.”

“I just wanted my cap back,” Sammy whines.

John has little patience for his youngest’s stubbornness. He stands, backing away from the coffee table. He crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Samuel, do you have anything else you want to add?” John asks sternly.

“No, sir,” Sammy responds with a sense of defeat.

“Wait for me in your room,” John orders as he points up the stairs.

Sammy slowly slides off the couch and turns to shuffle towards the stairs.

John lands a firm swat to encourage the dawdling bottom as it passes.

Sammy runs the remainder of the distance to his room.

*****

Sammy rubs the sting in his butt from the swat he received downstairs. He expects his rear end will be meeting his dad’s firm hand again in a very short time. He gives his butt another rub.

We were just listening to music. Why did that girl have to come to the playground and cause trouble? He knows fighting is wrong but she made him really mad when she wouldn’t leave him alone. Now his bottom is going to pay the price.

John Winchester startles Sammy out of his thoughts as he shuts the bedroom door behind him.

Sam backs up a couple of steps. A lump moves to his throat and his mouth goes dry when he eyes what his father is holding down at his side. It’s the paddle from his marine duffle bag. Dean says it stings like a bitch. He’s always figured that meant it really hurt, a lot. He was afraid he was going to find out for himself, for the first time.

“Daaa.” Sammy swallows hard and attempts to speak, again. Pointing at the paddle, in a whisper he asks, “Dad, what’s that for?”

“Samuel, this is not the first time we have had to address you not controlling your temper. As part of your spanking you will receive five swats with the paddle.”

Sam freezes where he is standing.

John advances on his son and sits next to him on the bed. He places the paddle within range behind him. John reaches to undo the top button of Sam’s jeans.

Sammy looks down and tries to stop his father’s fingers.

John pauses and waits to see if Sammy is going to fight him on dropping his jeans or if he wants to do it himself.

Sam closes his eyes tightly. With shaky fingers he unbuttons his jeans and unzips his fly. Sam lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. With tears already welling, he opens his eyes and looks into his father’s face.

John helps Sam slide his jeans down past his knees.

Sammy’s wide open green eyes accentuate his current pale complexion.

“Sammy, are you scared?” John questions with concern.

Sammy slowly nods his head forward.

John reaches his muscular arm around Sam’s tiny waist guiding him in close to lean on his outer right thigh.

“Sammy you know I love you?”

Sammy nods.

“You know what you did was wrong and you should be punished.”

Sammy tries to take a step back but John’s firm grasp keeps him secure against his father’s thigh.

John raises both eyebrows at the seven-year-old’s response. He lets the remark pass. He soothingly rubs Sammy’s back to calm him. “Yes, Sammy, the paddle will hurt but it’s supposed to. I need you to learn a lesson here. I think the paddle will help remind you that fighting and losing your temper is wrong. Do you understand?”

John wants to get this over with as much as Sammy does. He lifts Sammy over his knees into position. “Sammy, are you ready for your spanking?”

Sammy grabs a handful of bedspread and squeaks out, “Yes, sir.”

John tugs Sammy’s underpants off his butt and down his thighs to the crease in the back of his knees.

Sammy bends at the knees in a reflex response and kicks his feet up towards John’s head.

“No kicking, Samuel,” John orders as he pushes Sam’s legs back down.

Sam buries his face in the bedspread.

John raises his right hand to ready himself for the first meaningful swat to the small bare bottom before him. The loud slap of skin hitting skin interrupts the silence which had permeated the small bedroom. The snow white bottom glows a bright pink where John’s meaty palm met flesh.

With a groan, Sammy uses the grip he has on the bedspread to attempt to pull himself forward off his father’s lap.

John anchors Sammy’s torso firmly over his thighs with his left arm. “Settle down, Sammy. We’re just getting started.” John begins his rapid and thorough barrage of swats to Sam’s unprotected buttocks. He continues until the entire surface, including the sensitive sit spots are a bright crimson color.

Sammy cries and gasps for breath.

John pauses to reach behind for the paddle.

In a push up style motion, Sammy raises his head and shoulders up.

John gently guides Sammy back down into position with his left hand.

Sammy looks over his shoulder at his father with his tear streaked face.

“We’re not done yet, son. We still have the five you earned with the paddle.”

“I won’t do it again, Daddy,” Sammy confesses between sobs. “No paddle, pleeeeasse.” Sammy continues to stare up at his father with his pleading sad puppy eyes.

At any age, Dean has always taken his punishments so much better than his brother. Why does punishing Sammy make his own insides ache so much? John shakes his head to bring his mindset back to the task at hand. He resolves that this is the right thing to do.

“Samuel, we already talked about this.” He lands the first crack of the paddle on the middle of the squirming backside eliciting a sharp screech from his son.

Sammy bucks and tries to roll off John’s lap but is held securely by a determined father.

John brings the paddle down a second time positioning the swat to land a little lower and to the right of the first.

Sammy yelps loudly. He reaches back with his chubby hand to shield his bottom from the next assault.

John easily pins it to the small of Sammy’s back.

John quickly brings the next swat down. It lands lower and to the left of the first swat. The last two swats follow rapidly as John makes contact with the sensitive sit spots hoping to leave a final memorable impression with his son.

John tosses the paddle across the room onto Dean’s bed. He reaches under Sammy’s shirt to rub his son’s back with his warm palm. Unlike Dean, Sammy accepts the comfort his father offers him after a spanking. Many moments pass.

Sammy’s sobs quiet. John feels Sammy’s breathing ease and become regular. John knows if he doesn’t have Sammy sit up soon, his son will doze off to sleep while lying across his lap.

“Sammy, baby, are you ready to get up?” John prods the still form.

Sam lifts his head and nods yes.

John gently eases the underpants over the glowing butt.

Sam releases a slight whimper as the cotton makes contact with his punished bottom.

In one strong, confident motion John lifts Sammy off his stomach and positions him comfortably on his lap.

Sam’s sore bottom hangs between his father’s thighs.

“So Sammy what have you learned today?”

Sam puts an index finger to his lips in a thinking gesture. Sammy responses, “Stupid girls only get you in trouble.”

John chuckles, “There are those who would disagree. Anything else?”

“Fighting is bad.” Sam offers.

“Good, and…?” John nudges.

“Dean’s right. The paddle stings like a bitch,” Sammy reaches down and gives his sore butt a rub.

Again, John lets the swearing pass. He needs to keep his seven-year-old focused. “And why did you get spanked with the paddle?” John prompts.

“To control my temper,” Sam whispers.

John gives his son a smothering hug. “Good Sammy, John praises.

Sammy returns the hug.

“I think you should rest now, kiddo. I expect Dean will be up shortly to keep you company.”

John sustains the hug as he rises to a standing position. He removes Sammy’s sneakers and slides his jeans over his stocking feet. He reaches down and pulls the covers back on the bed. He lays Sammy down on his stomach leaning in to kiss the top of his head. As John arranges the blankets around his youngest, Sammy snuggles deeper into the familiar contour of the mattress. On his way out, John retrieves the paddle from Dean’s bed.

As his father reaches the doorway Sammy yawns, “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, son.” John closes the door behind him and goes in search of his oldest.

*****

Dean focuses on the mischievous grin his father is wearing as he stands at the bottom of the stairs. Dean’s attention shifts downward when his father begins repeatedly slapping his open left palm with the dreaded paddle.

"So Dean, where do you suppose your little brother heard that the paddle stings like a bitch?" John crooks an eyebrow and waits for a response.

“You got me, Dad. Kids will pick up the darn'dest things on the street. Is Sammy okay?" Dean quickly changes the subject away from his swearing.

"Sammy's fine," John informs his eldest as he walks across to the other side of the room, knowingly opening up an escape route.

With a clear shot to the stairs, Dean grabs the opportunity and bolts away from his father and up the stairs, yelling over his shoulder, "I'm going to check on Sammy."

John grins to himself, "And Dean thinks he’s the master of manipulation. He won't be back until he thinks his butt is safe from a paddling. I can finish my research uninterrupted." He wonders if setting Dean up like that was being a bad father. John asserts he’ll make it up to his oldest when they have their little talk about Dean teaching swear words to his baby brother.

"You ok?" Dean asks as he sits on the bed next to his brother. He rests his back against the headboard, legs up, ankles crossed.

Sammy rolls onto his side to face his big brother. "Dad used the paddle, Dean," Sammy informs sullenly. Looking for sympathy and comfort he snuggles into Dean’s side with his head on his big brother’s thigh.

"The first time’s the worst, kiddo. It’s not so scary the next time," Dean rubs Sammy’s back in a comforting gesture.

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So glad you liked it. I like a stern but loving John. I wasn't thinking of him as a kid himself but he was kinda mischievious in the way he questioned Dean and knew Dean would make a break to check on Sam. I always like cuddles after the spanking and in this fic we had John & Dean cuddles. Big brother Dean knows how to comfort little Sammy. Thanks for your comment. It prompted me to reread the fic.